Since our DVD player decided after movie night #1 to up and die while still holding the DVD inside of it, I never got to watch the end of A History of Violence. My husband has yet to perform surgery on the DVD player to get the DVD out (it's Netflix's DVD, so we sorta, kinda have to get it out), and then move the DVD player in our bedroom into the living room. But I'm sure he'll get to it, along with caulking the kitchen sink (way over two years past due - yikes, can't wait for the sink to fall into the cabinet), cleaning up the back patio, putting up the new blinds in our bedroom (I bought those about two years ago too), um....cleaning the heater / A/C filter thing that hasn't been cleaned since we replaced our furnace and got A/C....yeah....um....that's it for now.
Anyhoo. We have a voucher from Comcast to watch an On Demand movie on them, so we watched Juno last night. Even though I was dead tired, I managed to stay up til 10pm to watch the whole thing.
I've been wanting to watch Juno for ages. And even with all the hype and snippets shown on TV, I was still surprised by the plot. One part of the movie made my husband and I have a little chat about when a woman realizes she's a mother vs. when a male does, and it made me awfully sad and sentimental and I wanted to go into Mateo's room and grab him and rock him while he cried because I woke him up to satisfy my incessant need to love up my baby.
It also made my ovaries ache a bit more.
I call that a successful movie night, don't you?
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
New tupperware set + husband = love.
Now that Mateo is eating regular food, our tupperware supply seems to have diminished greatly. So there I was in Target a week or so ago, and I walked down the aisle o' tupperware (not really tupperware, but it's easier to say that than "plastic containers with lids" over and over). I spotted a nice set of tupperware with really tiny containers up to regular-sized containers - with red lids!
Since I plan to make my kitchen a fabulous red kitchen some day, and have several red items already, I snatched the set up.
Little did I know that my husband has been waiting for such a set to walk into his life. Little did I know that he's tupperware crazy.
The reason I got this set was because of the really small containers, which are perfect for Mateo's leftovers. The first time I used one, I announced how perfect it was for Mateo's leftovers. Just perfect. Did I say perfect? Perfect!
Then my husband used one. Then another. Then told me that yes, in fact, the really small containers are quite perfect....for his purposes.
All of a sudden everything he needs stored is in a tupperware container. Most of these stored items are in the really small ones, which means there aren't any for Mateo's leftovers. Some have mysteriously disappeared, and I'm thinking he's taken them to work, never to be seen again. He's even gone so far as putting a half eaten cereal bar in a tupperware container.
And I know what he's doing; he's avoiding plastic storage bags like they are the plague because he is a recycling nut who doesn't always follow through with his recycling plans. Or the recycling rules, but now matter how many times I tell him he can't put certain things in the recycling bin for whatever reason, he still does it and insists it's okay.
So with all the small containers mysteriously disappearing daily, I think I'm going to have to buy either another set or the small ones separately (which would only cost more, I think). Father's Day and our Anniversary is coming up...Perhaps a set of 44 pieces would tickle his fancy?
We also have half a lime in a tupperware container. That's how bad it's gotten.
Since I plan to make my kitchen a fabulous red kitchen some day, and have several red items already, I snatched the set up.
Little did I know that my husband has been waiting for such a set to walk into his life. Little did I know that he's tupperware crazy.
The reason I got this set was because of the really small containers, which are perfect for Mateo's leftovers. The first time I used one, I announced how perfect it was for Mateo's leftovers. Just perfect. Did I say perfect? Perfect!
Then my husband used one. Then another. Then told me that yes, in fact, the really small containers are quite perfect....for his purposes.
All of a sudden everything he needs stored is in a tupperware container. Most of these stored items are in the really small ones, which means there aren't any for Mateo's leftovers. Some have mysteriously disappeared, and I'm thinking he's taken them to work, never to be seen again. He's even gone so far as putting a half eaten cereal bar in a tupperware container.
And I know what he's doing; he's avoiding plastic storage bags like they are the plague because he is a recycling nut who doesn't always follow through with his recycling plans. Or the recycling rules, but now matter how many times I tell him he can't put certain things in the recycling bin for whatever reason, he still does it and insists it's okay.
So with all the small containers mysteriously disappearing daily, I think I'm going to have to buy either another set or the small ones separately (which would only cost more, I think). Father's Day and our Anniversary is coming up...Perhaps a set of 44 pieces would tickle his fancy?
We also have half a lime in a tupperware container. That's how bad it's gotten.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
I've got achey ovary syndrome.
Yesterday some lady came in with her baby. Her baby is 4.5 months old, a girl, fully of kicky legs and gummy smiles, small, cute, with twinkly eyes. I stared at her baby for a good 5 minutes, wondering what happened to my baby and was my baby ever like this baby? I honestly don't remember Mateo looking that babyish at 4.5 months old. Even at 3 months old he looked more unbaby than this baby.
And while I've said over and over that I never wanted a girl, now that I have a boy, I'd take a girl. A little girl who was calm and serene and thoughtful, who wouldn't want to get up at the crack of dawn (or before) on the weekends to run around like a wild banshee, oscillating between wanting to sit on the couch with mommy to wanting to lay flat on the play mat, arms neatly tucked under his belly, to wanting banana NOW, that toy NOW, and hey, Zoe, get the heck out of my way, I need to pull down more slates from the blinds!!!
When I was finished staring at the little baby, I started talking to her and smiling and doing all those goofy things adults do to babies to make them smile. I was smitten.
And that's when my ovaries began to ache. When said lady (who, by the way, looks like a twig and like she never gave birth to anything except maybe a peanut) and baby left, I IMed my husband and told him I want another baby and that my ovaries ache.
He asked, "your ovaries ache because you want a baby?"
I told him yes, yes they do, and yes I do, and I want another baby!
He said if we were rich, I could have all the babies I wanted.
While that sounds just dandy, I think one more baby would be nice. Plus I know I could do everything way better and be less anxious about all kinds of stuff if I had another baby. No problem. I'm an expert now. Because now I know they do stop the constant crying and they do sleep all night and they will let you know they love you by bum rushing you and giving you hugs.
Ah, the smell of spit up and goopy poop calls me. Not to mention lack of sleep, waking up every 2 hours AND having a wild child known as Mr. Mateo driving me loopy with his banshee ways.
And while I've said over and over that I never wanted a girl, now that I have a boy, I'd take a girl. A little girl who was calm and serene and thoughtful, who wouldn't want to get up at the crack of dawn (or before) on the weekends to run around like a wild banshee, oscillating between wanting to sit on the couch with mommy to wanting to lay flat on the play mat, arms neatly tucked under his belly, to wanting banana NOW, that toy NOW, and hey, Zoe, get the heck out of my way, I need to pull down more slates from the blinds!!!
When I was finished staring at the little baby, I started talking to her and smiling and doing all those goofy things adults do to babies to make them smile. I was smitten.
And that's when my ovaries began to ache. When said lady (who, by the way, looks like a twig and like she never gave birth to anything except maybe a peanut) and baby left, I IMed my husband and told him I want another baby and that my ovaries ache.
He asked, "your ovaries ache because you want a baby?"
I told him yes, yes they do, and yes I do, and I want another baby!
He said if we were rich, I could have all the babies I wanted.
While that sounds just dandy, I think one more baby would be nice. Plus I know I could do everything way better and be less anxious about all kinds of stuff if I had another baby. No problem. I'm an expert now. Because now I know they do stop the constant crying and they do sleep all night and they will let you know they love you by bum rushing you and giving you hugs.
Ah, the smell of spit up and goopy poop calls me. Not to mention lack of sleep, waking up every 2 hours AND having a wild child known as Mr. Mateo driving me loopy with his banshee ways.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Curses to you, elevator!
I left work today like I normally do, which means walking out to the elevators while trying to get my iPod going and my ear buds plugged into my ears so I can block out all outside annoyances. I pushed the "down" button for the elevator, and the green light lit, and the elevator doors opened, and this oblivious girlie blindly walked onto the elevator.
And dropped about 5 inches.
While that doesn't sound like a lot, when you're not expecting it to happen because you're not paying attention to anything except blocking out everyone in the world, and you're stepping onto an elevator that then drops another inch further down because you weigh way too much, then it's a tad bit alarming.
For a split second I had to decide if I was going to get off the elevator because it stopping roughly 5 inches below the hallway floor was a good indication that something was wrong with the elevator, or jump off, look silly and wait for another working elevator.
Aaaaaannnnnnnnnndddddddd....then the doors closed on me.
With complete fear that I was going to be trapped in the elevator and look the fool, I pushed the "G" button for the ground floor. I had hope. The elevator began to jerk up and down, up and down, very slightly, but up and down nonetheless. And it didn't stop.
So what does one do when one is in an elevator that's going slightly up and down? Panic? Ah, not this gal. I pushed the "doors open" button.
Miraculously I was not destined to be trapped in an elevator today, and the doors opened up. I got off.
The immediately thought if I pushed the "down" button again, that same elevator was going to open up and so on and so forth and I'd be hiking down 11 flights of stairs. And the idea of hiking down 11 flights of stairs does not make me happy, but I'll definitely take that over hiking up 11 flights of stairs (or 1 flight for that matter). But another elevator opened up, and I got on.
When I got downstairs I called my husband and told him I was almost trapped in an elevator and I was not pleased. I told him the story, and all the while he laughed at me. Then he told me if I go down any escalators today, to be very careful. I informed him that I have vertigo when I go down steep stairways and escalators.
As you can tell, the mere fact that I'm writing this little story means I survived.
And dropped about 5 inches.
While that doesn't sound like a lot, when you're not expecting it to happen because you're not paying attention to anything except blocking out everyone in the world, and you're stepping onto an elevator that then drops another inch further down because you weigh way too much, then it's a tad bit alarming.
For a split second I had to decide if I was going to get off the elevator because it stopping roughly 5 inches below the hallway floor was a good indication that something was wrong with the elevator, or jump off, look silly and wait for another working elevator.
Aaaaaannnnnnnnnndddddddd....then the doors closed on me.
With complete fear that I was going to be trapped in the elevator and look the fool, I pushed the "G" button for the ground floor. I had hope. The elevator began to jerk up and down, up and down, very slightly, but up and down nonetheless. And it didn't stop.
So what does one do when one is in an elevator that's going slightly up and down? Panic? Ah, not this gal. I pushed the "doors open" button.
Miraculously I was not destined to be trapped in an elevator today, and the doors opened up. I got off.
The immediately thought if I pushed the "down" button again, that same elevator was going to open up and so on and so forth and I'd be hiking down 11 flights of stairs. And the idea of hiking down 11 flights of stairs does not make me happy, but I'll definitely take that over hiking up 11 flights of stairs (or 1 flight for that matter). But another elevator opened up, and I got on.
When I got downstairs I called my husband and told him I was almost trapped in an elevator and I was not pleased. I told him the story, and all the while he laughed at me. Then he told me if I go down any escalators today, to be very careful. I informed him that I have vertigo when I go down steep stairways and escalators.
As you can tell, the mere fact that I'm writing this little story means I survived.
I may not have much dignity left, but I did get me some new PJs.
A month or so ago I ripped a big ol' hole down the butt seam of my PJs. I did this while trying to make sure Mateo could breath and wouldn't cough himself into puking the one night he almost puked on my head. I knew I my PJs ripped, but until I got more sleep in, I didn't care. My husband, on the other hand, had to inform me immediately that my PJs were ripped. He does care about these things, lack of sleep or not.
So after I had my nap, I threw them away.
One thing I must point out, since I doubt anyone knows or understands the state of my PJ situation, is that I don't have many summery bottoms that fit. I have a few. Just a few. I have maternity sweatpants that I still wear even though they're way too big, but they only work for me during the winter, and even then, I'm still sweating up a storm in them.
To lose PJ bottoms that did fit was a rather sad incident for me, but I wasn't going to run around with the butt seam ripped out.
My husband asked me one time if I was going to throw out my PJs with the hole in the butt. I told him I did. Then he went after my PJ t-shirts, which have little pin holes and worn hems, and I told him those stay.
This past weekend, I was wearing another pair of PJ bottoms. I used the bathroom, and that's when I noticed the butt seam was totally ripped out. Not again, I thought. I changed into shorts and threw the bottoms away.
I began to think of how many times I had worn those PJ bottoms, and how my butt was flapping around in the wind, and how my husband never once said anything.
Or did he?
So a day later I confronted him as to why he let me walk around with my butt out in the open. He said he didn't know, and that I wear shirts with holes in them, so he figured I didn't care. I informed him that I have no other PJ shirts to wear, so the shirts stay. However, no one should be allowed to run around with the butt seam of their PJ bottoms ripped. No one. Including me.
We went to Old Navy on Sunday, where I bought myself two PJ bottoms, which are perfect for my sweaty and slightly fatty ways since they're knee-length shorts, fit just fine, and don't show off my thigh chubs.
So after I had my nap, I threw them away.
One thing I must point out, since I doubt anyone knows or understands the state of my PJ situation, is that I don't have many summery bottoms that fit. I have a few. Just a few. I have maternity sweatpants that I still wear even though they're way too big, but they only work for me during the winter, and even then, I'm still sweating up a storm in them.
To lose PJ bottoms that did fit was a rather sad incident for me, but I wasn't going to run around with the butt seam ripped out.
My husband asked me one time if I was going to throw out my PJs with the hole in the butt. I told him I did. Then he went after my PJ t-shirts, which have little pin holes and worn hems, and I told him those stay.
This past weekend, I was wearing another pair of PJ bottoms. I used the bathroom, and that's when I noticed the butt seam was totally ripped out. Not again, I thought. I changed into shorts and threw the bottoms away.
I began to think of how many times I had worn those PJ bottoms, and how my butt was flapping around in the wind, and how my husband never once said anything.
Or did he?
So a day later I confronted him as to why he let me walk around with my butt out in the open. He said he didn't know, and that I wear shirts with holes in them, so he figured I didn't care. I informed him that I have no other PJ shirts to wear, so the shirts stay. However, no one should be allowed to run around with the butt seam of their PJ bottoms ripped. No one. Including me.
We went to Old Navy on Sunday, where I bought myself two PJ bottoms, which are perfect for my sweaty and slightly fatty ways since they're knee-length shorts, fit just fine, and don't show off my thigh chubs.
My brain has been washed with crap.
It's finally happened. I've been brainwashed. Mateo's TV shows likings have expanded greatly, and he likes some of the most awful, adults on crack shows ever. One is Hi-5.
They sing Robot #1, and I think I heard it about 103 times this past weekend. Unbelievably, I woke up with it running through my already cluttered mind. I don't have nearly enough room in my head for crappy kid music.
Have a listen. Notice the token black, asian, latin and not one, but TWO white peeps.
Not only does Mateo like this show, but he actually likes Barney (he only watches that on days he's home sick with me while I work), some funky adults dressed like big dogs show called Raggs, and probably the scariest show ever, LazyTown.
Can kid shows get any worse?? At this point, I welcome Teletubbies.
They sing Robot #1, and I think I heard it about 103 times this past weekend. Unbelievably, I woke up with it running through my already cluttered mind. I don't have nearly enough room in my head for crappy kid music.
Have a listen. Notice the token black, asian, latin and not one, but TWO white peeps.
Not only does Mateo like this show, but he actually likes Barney (he only watches that on days he's home sick with me while I work), some funky adults dressed like big dogs show called Raggs, and probably the scariest show ever, LazyTown.
Can kid shows get any worse?? At this point, I welcome Teletubbies.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
This one goes out to you, Boss Lady.
I'm reading Jen Lancaster's first book Bitter is the New Black, and with the amount of talking she does about herself and looking fabulous, I was curious to find more pictures of her than the few on her blog Jennsylvania. So I googled "Jen Lancaster," clicked on the images button and came across a whole mess of pictures from events she either attended or was there to promote her book.
For whatever reason, this picture caught my eye. So I clicked on the tiny snippet and was brought to this woman's web site. Apparently she likes to read, and even more apparently, she likes to go to book signings and take pictures (I almost used the word "force") with the authors. If you click on most of them, the authors have a weird expression on their face, that says to me, "why do I have to do the book tour and have my photo taken with every numb-nut who stands in line?" If you don't believe me, look here (eek, the head touch), and here (the side sidle, can I take a picture?), and here (he just looks uncomfortable, and since I know he's gay, I'm certain putting her arm around her is like putting an arm around a meat slab (and no, I didn't mean it that way)), annnnnddd finally here (oh, the ever popular, let me stand 10 feet in front of the celeb so it sorta, kinda, okay not really, looks like this is planned).
Now, now...I took a picture with Penn Jillette the last time we were in Vegas (I write that like we go all the time, sadly, this is so not the case and the reason? His name is Mateo and she's also called a mortgage), so I've also done the "I don't care if I will ever know this person, I must get a picture with them" thing - and too bad my husband doesn't know how to focus because the picture came out so blurry it makes me sad to this day.
But that's beside the point - completely. While I did want to write a post about this woman and make fun of her, I then saw this name in her forced author picture list: Nancy Pearl.
I know Nancy Pearl doesn't mean a thing to most people. But she means a whole heck of a lot to us at work. Without going into much detail, my group runs a very small but quite successful library. So successful, in fact, that I wrote an article about it for our intranet site. Yes, this is big time, people. The weekend before the article was due, my boss came in to work with something she bought during the weekend: A librarian action figure:
This action figure is of a very important librarian (I guess): Nancy Pearl. Yes, the Nancy Pearl. Don't act like you don't know who she is. We planned on using her picture with the article, until we chickened out for fear of looking unprofessional (side note, recently another group used an action figure for their article picture - this makes me very sad not to mention jealous because my picture was way better; Nancy was standing in front of the San Francisco skyline!) and so we used a picture of a stack of books.
Stack of books? Nancy Pearl? Nancy Pearl, hands down.
Nancy has become dear to us all. We often make fun of her and her lesbian-looking ways; once I put a push pin in the hand holding the book (yes, it's removable, and it's aptly named Book Lust, which is the name of Ms. Pearl's book, but I'm not sure any of us knew that) so she took on a murderess persona; and my co-worker ran off with her and it took my boss several days before she found her again.
And if the real Nancy Pearl ever googles herself, comes across my blog, reads this and is appalled (although she must have seen it all, being a librarian), then please accept my apologies. You only became a real person to me today.
For whatever reason, this picture caught my eye. So I clicked on the tiny snippet and was brought to this woman's web site. Apparently she likes to read, and even more apparently, she likes to go to book signings and take pictures (I almost used the word "force") with the authors. If you click on most of them, the authors have a weird expression on their face, that says to me, "why do I have to do the book tour and have my photo taken with every numb-nut who stands in line?" If you don't believe me, look here (eek, the head touch), and here (the side sidle, can I take a picture?), and here (he just looks uncomfortable, and since I know he's gay, I'm certain putting her arm around her is like putting an arm around a meat slab (and no, I didn't mean it that way)), annnnnddd finally here (oh, the ever popular, let me stand 10 feet in front of the celeb so it sorta, kinda, okay not really, looks like this is planned).
Now, now...I took a picture with Penn Jillette the last time we were in Vegas (I write that like we go all the time, sadly, this is so not the case and the reason? His name is Mateo and she's also called a mortgage), so I've also done the "I don't care if I will ever know this person, I must get a picture with them" thing - and too bad my husband doesn't know how to focus because the picture came out so blurry it makes me sad to this day.
But that's beside the point - completely. While I did want to write a post about this woman and make fun of her, I then saw this name in her forced author picture list: Nancy Pearl.
I know Nancy Pearl doesn't mean a thing to most people. But she means a whole heck of a lot to us at work. Without going into much detail, my group runs a very small but quite successful library. So successful, in fact, that I wrote an article about it for our intranet site. Yes, this is big time, people. The weekend before the article was due, my boss came in to work with something she bought during the weekend: A librarian action figure:
This action figure is of a very important librarian (I guess): Nancy Pearl. Yes, the Nancy Pearl. Don't act like you don't know who she is. We planned on using her picture with the article, until we chickened out for fear of looking unprofessional (side note, recently another group used an action figure for their article picture - this makes me very sad not to mention jealous because my picture was way better; Nancy was standing in front of the San Francisco skyline!) and so we used a picture of a stack of books.
Stack of books? Nancy Pearl? Nancy Pearl, hands down.
Nancy has become dear to us all. We often make fun of her and her lesbian-looking ways; once I put a push pin in the hand holding the book (yes, it's removable, and it's aptly named Book Lust, which is the name of Ms. Pearl's book, but I'm not sure any of us knew that) so she took on a murderess persona; and my co-worker ran off with her and it took my boss several days before she found her again.
And if the real Nancy Pearl ever googles herself, comes across my blog, reads this and is appalled (although she must have seen it all, being a librarian), then please accept my apologies. You only became a real person to me today.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Mateo makes his first choice.
I really shouldn't say it's his first choice because I give him about 4-5 different bits of food to eat for lunch and dinner, and he makes the decision if he's eating everything or some.
However, the incident that occurred today really weirded me out. Why? Because my baby is turning into a...ssshhhhh...kid.
It makes me shudder.
Even though we planned to keep him in all day because of the Santa Cruz mountains burning and all the smoke and ick floating to our neck of the woods, Mateo had other plans and turned into a grumpasaurus after his nap and pretty much demanded to go outside. He sat and tried to put his own shoes on, and when my husband mentioned the word "outside," Mateo got up and ran to the gate and whined like the grumpy grumpasaurus he's been lately.
I was "resting" (okay, okay, NAPPING) and was woken up by Dad and grumpasaurus tag along. I was informed grumpy wanted to go outside, so I told Dad to go take a shower and I'd occupy Mr. Grumpy Grumpers.
When my husband was finished showering, I took Mateo into his room to get him changed for the weirdly cold May weather (sans smokey smell, according to my husband, and all I can do is believe him since I won't be going outside today). When I sat him down to put his gym shoes on, which I had grabbed, Mateo stood up, said "neeeeeeeehhhhhh!" (no), and grabbed his converses.
So I told him if that's what he wanted to wear, then okay, converses it is. I also let him know that it was going to take a bit to get them on his feet and tied up. I figured the grumpasaurus would rear its ugly head again because it doesn't seem to have any patience, but he sat patiently as I got them on and tied them up.
He decided which shoes he was wearing. He has never made an indication about what he wants to wear.
What's next? Cell phone?
However, the incident that occurred today really weirded me out. Why? Because my baby is turning into a...ssshhhhh...kid.
It makes me shudder.
Even though we planned to keep him in all day because of the Santa Cruz mountains burning and all the smoke and ick floating to our neck of the woods, Mateo had other plans and turned into a grumpasaurus after his nap and pretty much demanded to go outside. He sat and tried to put his own shoes on, and when my husband mentioned the word "outside," Mateo got up and ran to the gate and whined like the grumpy grumpasaurus he's been lately.
I was "resting" (okay, okay, NAPPING) and was woken up by Dad and grumpasaurus tag along. I was informed grumpy wanted to go outside, so I told Dad to go take a shower and I'd occupy Mr. Grumpy Grumpers.
When my husband was finished showering, I took Mateo into his room to get him changed for the weirdly cold May weather (sans smokey smell, according to my husband, and all I can do is believe him since I won't be going outside today). When I sat him down to put his gym shoes on, which I had grabbed, Mateo stood up, said "neeeeeeeehhhhhh!" (no), and grabbed his converses.
So I told him if that's what he wanted to wear, then okay, converses it is. I also let him know that it was going to take a bit to get them on his feet and tied up. I figured the grumpasaurus would rear its ugly head again because it doesn't seem to have any patience, but he sat patiently as I got them on and tied them up.
He decided which shoes he was wearing. He has never made an indication about what he wants to wear.
What's next? Cell phone?
Yay....movie night!
Last night was movie night. We watched A History of Violence.
By 7:50 PM, I could barely keep my eyes open and was told to go to bed. Instead, I kept sleeping until the movie was over, when I was told again to go to bed. This time I did.
Now I have to watch the last 30 minutes of the movie today.
Yay! Movie night!
By 7:50 PM, I could barely keep my eyes open and was told to go to bed. Instead, I kept sleeping until the movie was over, when I was told again to go to bed. This time I did.
Now I have to watch the last 30 minutes of the movie today.
Yay! Movie night!
Friday, May 23, 2008
Mom vs. the toy.
Remember this little story about bursting Mateo's bubble? Well, I think I'm being punished because the toy I ordered for him is now my personal toy nemesis.
First, After I put it together and flipped the switch to "on," it didn't work. I swear the Amazon listing said it came with batteries, but apparently not based on the toys lack of spewing out the balls from its insides.
Yesterday I bought the needed batteries, so when Mateo and I got home, I put the batteries in so we could get this toy spewing balls. Of course, since I put it together a few days earlier, and I left it on the ground, Mateo happened upon it Wednesday morning and removed all balls from its inside by knocking it over. We have a cat who loves anything that moves or twinkles, so most of the balls got moved around the living room and dining area. I grabbed two balls and put one in, which easily fell into the tube, and then the second, which didn't.
So, me being the brilliant one, I started pushing the ball into the hole more and more, wondering why it wouldn't go down.
Oh wait. You're wondering where Mateo is during all this? He's sitting next to me, watching everything I'm doing and wondering why I'm sweating so much.
I grabbed the screwdriver I had to use to open the battery compartment and started so hit the ball, which made it lodge into the tunnel.
Hmm. Why would the toy peeps send this toy along with a ball that won't actually work with the toy?
Then I realized, he has another toy, with three balls, almost the same size as the balls for this toy, and I'm trying to force the wrong ball into the wrong toy. And that's why it's not working.
I spent a good 10 minutes running around the condo, trying to find a small screwdriver because the screws I needed to remove to try to remove the lodged ball were tiny. I finally got the ball out.
During this time, Mateo was playing with the parts to the toy that I had to take off in order to perform surgery.
Okay. So I got the toy back together. And since I realized that using the three balls that don't work with the toy is not the brightest thing, I searched for all the balls that came with the toy - I made sure they belong to this toy. While I was doing this, Mateo was crying and following me because he was on the verge of calling it a day and didn't have time for my nonsense.
I realized one of the balls I grabbed went to the other toy (I'm telling you, they all look the same, and the size difference is so slight, it's really hard to tell) when it wouldn't quite fit through one of the holes. I put the ball with the other toy - the toy it belongs to.
After all the balls were put in the tube, I grabbed Mateo, sat him in my lap, and turned that baby on.
Nothing happened.
After inspecting, I realized that Mateo had grabbed the ball I put off to the side and stuck it in the tube while I wasn't looking. Somehow, this ball got in, but it couldn't get out. At least, I couldn't get it out, no matter how many screws I unscrewed.
I eventually had to abandon my toy project because Mateo was on the verge of cracking and needed to eat dinner.
The toy is sitting on the kitchen table, just waiting for someone to rescue it. I swear, this is the worst 18 dollars I've ever spent.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Did I say cancel? Oh no. Not true. Not true at all.
So, never one to let circumstances weigh me down, I quite craftily devised a plan where my husband only uses a half day off and I use a full day off, and we all get to spend the weekend at the beach. Low and behold, this is our 2008 family vacation!
Instead of staying at the Beach House in Half Moon Bay, we're now staying at Sanctuary Beach Resort in Monterey where we get our very own golf cart. Yes, you read correctly. Our very own golf cart.
We have a lovely Jr. Suite overlooking the dunes and supposedly the ocean, and basically have a huge chunk of dunes and beach to ourselves. As the web site description states: Beach access merely steps from the threshold of your room. And there are bellmen. BellMEN. Not one man, but many men. Many men with bells, awaiting us to call and request bizarre things of them. And there is one picture of a restaurant (like we'd go - it looks too nice and our child is too wild), but I can't really find anything about this place, so I'm not going to even think about it when I have golf carts, dunes, bellmen and beaches to dream of.
Mateo gets to play in the sand, go to the aquarium and turn bright red. We shall buy him touristy tees and otter animals and sea shell bracelets.
And on Sunday, when we all get home, we will look fondly back upon our 2008 family vacation and dream of fishes and whales and clam chowder in a bread bowl.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Speaking of bursting bubbles.
So my diet coach reminded me of this in her comment about bursting bubbles. And it's striking me particularly funny right now.
Mateo got invited to a birthday party in June. So I went on Amazon and found a really cool pre-K laptop for the bday kid, and decided to buy Mateo this because he's particularly fond of balls and them flying through the air at me, Zoe, the wall, the sliding glass door, etc..
I was pretty sure the notice I got from Amazon said his toy was shipped before the laptop (excuse me, I just realized it's a "laughtop" according to Amazon). So when Grandma brought it over on the day Mateo had his doctor appointment, I just knew Mateo would love to have this new toy to play with, especially since it was like 105 degrees outside and he is not allowed out in the heat for fear his cheeks will burst into flames and he will disintegrate before my eyes.
After we got back from the appointment, I brought the box into the living room, and being the type of mom who loves to make everything fun and exciting for her child, made a big, fat production about his cool new toy that he would love so much. Mateo was hovering on his haunches while I opened the box, his eye gleaming with excitement.
"My mommy is the best!" I'm sure he was thinking. Or maybe just "mine, mine, mine." Who really knows what these crazy kids are thinking these days.
As I opened the first flap, I realized it wasn't his toy. It was the birthday present.
Mateo got all excited, wanting to get his grubby little paws on the "laughtop," but I had to tell him, "no, baby, no -- this isn't for you. This is a birthday present." After apologizing fifty times for getting his hopes up (all of which I'm sure he took to heart), I moved the box to the kitchen table.
He immediately started to wail and cry and throw himself around like a dying fish.
I guess he didn't hear my apologies.
He ran over to the kitchen table and pointed to where I put the box and said, "daaah, thaaa, thaaa, THAAAA, DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
And this, my dear friends, is my son's first bubble-burst thanks to his mom. I'm sure he'll remember it forever.
Mateo got invited to a birthday party in June. So I went on Amazon and found a really cool pre-K laptop for the bday kid, and decided to buy Mateo this because he's particularly fond of balls and them flying through the air at me, Zoe, the wall, the sliding glass door, etc..
I was pretty sure the notice I got from Amazon said his toy was shipped before the laptop (excuse me, I just realized it's a "laughtop" according to Amazon). So when Grandma brought it over on the day Mateo had his doctor appointment, I just knew Mateo would love to have this new toy to play with, especially since it was like 105 degrees outside and he is not allowed out in the heat for fear his cheeks will burst into flames and he will disintegrate before my eyes.
After we got back from the appointment, I brought the box into the living room, and being the type of mom who loves to make everything fun and exciting for her child, made a big, fat production about his cool new toy that he would love so much. Mateo was hovering on his haunches while I opened the box, his eye gleaming with excitement.
"My mommy is the best!" I'm sure he was thinking. Or maybe just "mine, mine, mine." Who really knows what these crazy kids are thinking these days.
As I opened the first flap, I realized it wasn't his toy. It was the birthday present.
Mateo got all excited, wanting to get his grubby little paws on the "laughtop," but I had to tell him, "no, baby, no -- this isn't for you. This is a birthday present." After apologizing fifty times for getting his hopes up (all of which I'm sure he took to heart), I moved the box to the kitchen table.
He immediately started to wail and cry and throw himself around like a dying fish.
I guess he didn't hear my apologies.
He ran over to the kitchen table and pointed to where I put the box and said, "daaah, thaaa, thaaa, THAAAA, DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
And this, my dear friends, is my son's first bubble-burst thanks to his mom. I'm sure he'll remember it forever.
Hey! Movie night!
So after thinking about what my coach and paranoid sis have said, I've deemed using that site I mentioned below might not be the smartest thing, and even though it saddens me greatly, I probaby won't go watching things now.
Thanks for making my excitment burst like a big ol' bubble.
We're now having movie night. Woohoo to movie night! Friday or Saturday night will be movie night. No TV shows.
Break out the Mike n' Ikes!
Thanks for making my excitment burst like a big ol' bubble.
We're now having movie night. Woohoo to movie night! Friday or Saturday night will be movie night. No TV shows.
Break out the Mike n' Ikes!
Movie Savior.
My husband and I used to watch DVDs religiously. We both love movies. Granted, we hardly ever went to the actual movie theatre; this was mostly due to me not wanting to spend approximately 3 hours of my precious time inside a dark theatre with a bunch of people I didn't know, or perhaps it's because I spent a couple of years working in a movie theatre and just got really burnt out on the idea of spending time in a threatre with a bunch of strangers for a few hours.
Anyway. So we used to watch DVDs every weekend, thanks to Netflix, the best thing since those times when movie rental stores used to be everywhere and now are few and far between. Case in point, here is what we have at home:
Anyway. So we used to watch DVDs every weekend, thanks to Netflix, the best thing since those times when movie rental stores used to be everywhere and now are few and far between. Case in point, here is what we have at home:
- A History of Violence - mailed on 11/27/07
- Smokin' Aces - mailed on 11/27/07
- Gone Baby Gone - mailed on 2/20/08
It's really difficult watching anything on TV with a goofy and active toddler in your life (except kid shows), so this is reason number one why we stopped watching movies. Reason number two is that we record way too many TV shows that we watch together, so dinnertime is spent watching one of the recorded shows. Reason number three is that I can't stay up late to watch DVDs, like in the good ol' before Mr. Mateo days, and I'm usually in bed before 9pm, even on the weekends.
I've told my husband on more than one occasion to convert the Netflix DVDs we have at home so we can watch these movies on our iPods going to and from work. "Oh, we'll watch a DVD this weekend," he tells me. It never happens.
Saturday my husband was making us dinner (he's decided to take over cooking dinner on the weekends - more on this in my Fatty McGoo blog) when he casually, offhandedly and out of the nowherely asked me if he ever sent me a link to some site where you can watch recently released movies for free.
"No?" I answered. I was just about to settle in with my book while he was watching MMA and cooking.
"Yeah, I checked it out and the quality of the movies is really good. It's called Surf The Channel, and they have movies and TV shows and sports stuff.
"Movies?" I asked. Normally I don't follow these free streaming things unless it's for music, then I'm all for it. But I've been wanting to watch some of the movies that have come out in the past year. And since my husband still hasn't converted our three DVDs that we're holding hostage from Netflix so I can at least watch those, I was very interested in this site.
I quickly forgot my book and grabbed my laptop and brought up the web site. The first thing I noticed is that Juno was listed as recently added. So I tried it. It worked. Granted, there Chinese characters on the screen, but it works. It really works.
I found another movie I was interested in, The Girl Next Door, started that up, and watched most of it while my husband cooked. I finished that one and then started watching An American Crime, which hasn't even been released on DVD yet (although in limited release in the theatres), which I then finished before I went to bed.
(Side note: These two movies are about the same incident that occurred in the US -- some crazy lady tortured a 16-year old girl in her basement. The Girl Next Door takes many liberties and is way more violent and graphic; An American Crime is based on the court transcripts and isn't so disturbing visually. Both movies are good and worth watching, if you like that sort of thing, which I guess I do.)
Three things about using this site:
1. Some of the recently released movies in the theatre (like Iron Man) are just people videotaping the movie while they're watching it. I don't go for this. It's just odd.
2. You have to get over the Chinese characters. You just have to. Eventually, you don't see them. And if you're like me, and you're hurting to watch movies, you won't care. And some DVD movies don't even have it.
3. If you're connecting to a server in China (most of the movies are cached on Chinese web sites), you'll eventually lose your connection. With the first movie I watched, when this happened, I just had to let the movie run until it got to the point where it stopped on me. With the second movie, I was able to fast forward to the point it stopped, which I was very happy about because it was right at the end of the movie.
I told my husband that he should have never told me about this site because he's lost me to movies. And that I was cancelling our Netflix account because we never watch the DVDs and I'll just watch movies this way. They even have two episodes of This American Life! I'm hooked.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Another Friday on BART.
Last weekend there was a fire at the BART yard that then caused the BART folks to decide to eliminate the train going to Richmond (for once, my goodness, how many times do people going to SF have to transfer? it's about time the Richmond people suffer), and this topped with the heatwave (people passing out, trains passing out), has caused BART to be no fun at all this week. No fun at all.
I left work at 4:30, pretty much knowing it was going to be a mess for some reason, and low and behold, I was correct. The trains were all running late. So what would normally be a sorta kinda full train turned into a cattle car.
I was first in line on my side; some tall skinny man was first on his side. He, of course, being male and young and having nothing wrong with him, had to dart onto the train and get the first available and easy to get to seat. I was next, so I head to to back, where there were what looked to be two free window seats.
I usually avoid sitting in the back row because stinky homeless people tend to live back there, leaving their stink and funk and garbage. But when there is no where else to sit, I'll succumb to the ick.
Both guys sitting in the back rows were in aisle seats. I turned to the one on my left and said, "Excuse me," while gesturing to the window seat. That's when I saw he had fifty bags piled up in the seat next to him and on the ground.
ARGH!
To show my disgust with him, I waved my arm down at him and said "ugh!"
I turned to the guy on the right, who should have known he was my next "excuse me" victim, and he too had a bag on the seat next to him.
Come on, people! It's the busiest time on BART and you really think it's okay to do that??? Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, you're all dumb, dumb, dumb!
He actually got up for me, and so I actually got to sit down. The only complaint I have about sitting next to him was that he had slight BO, and every time he'd lift his arms up to adjust his newspaper, I'd get hit in the face with his stink.
At the next station another lady tried to sit down next to the guy with 50 bags, but he just smiled and gestured towards his bags like, "well, as you can certainly see, I have 50 bags in this seat, so you, my dear, cannot actually sit down." She glared at him.
The young man who rushed onto the train to get a seat before anyone else never once gave it up for anyone, even these two ladies who, I'd like to think were doing this to make a point, but probably not, were sitting in the aisle.
It's pretty amazing.
Actually what amazed me more was that neither lady stood up to get out of people's way when they were trying to leave the train.
Just another fun Friday evening in extremely hot weather while on BART.
I left work at 4:30, pretty much knowing it was going to be a mess for some reason, and low and behold, I was correct. The trains were all running late. So what would normally be a sorta kinda full train turned into a cattle car.
I was first in line on my side; some tall skinny man was first on his side. He, of course, being male and young and having nothing wrong with him, had to dart onto the train and get the first available and easy to get to seat. I was next, so I head to to back, where there were what looked to be two free window seats.
I usually avoid sitting in the back row because stinky homeless people tend to live back there, leaving their stink and funk and garbage. But when there is no where else to sit, I'll succumb to the ick.
Both guys sitting in the back rows were in aisle seats. I turned to the one on my left and said, "Excuse me," while gesturing to the window seat. That's when I saw he had fifty bags piled up in the seat next to him and on the ground.
ARGH!
To show my disgust with him, I waved my arm down at him and said "ugh!"
I turned to the guy on the right, who should have known he was my next "excuse me" victim, and he too had a bag on the seat next to him.
Come on, people! It's the busiest time on BART and you really think it's okay to do that??? Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, you're all dumb, dumb, dumb!
He actually got up for me, and so I actually got to sit down. The only complaint I have about sitting next to him was that he had slight BO, and every time he'd lift his arms up to adjust his newspaper, I'd get hit in the face with his stink.
At the next station another lady tried to sit down next to the guy with 50 bags, but he just smiled and gestured towards his bags like, "well, as you can certainly see, I have 50 bags in this seat, so you, my dear, cannot actually sit down." She glared at him.
The young man who rushed onto the train to get a seat before anyone else never once gave it up for anyone, even these two ladies who, I'd like to think were doing this to make a point, but probably not, were sitting in the aisle.
It's pretty amazing.
Actually what amazed me more was that neither lady stood up to get out of people's way when they were trying to leave the train.
Just another fun Friday evening in extremely hot weather while on BART.
My goodness, it's my husband and I.
One of us tends to elaborate more than the other, especially when he's (oops) not there.
Damn thee, asthma!
Mateo went to his 15-month well check yesterday, and all this coughing and huffy puffiness is due to asthma, which is what I figured, but I'm no doc, so there wasn't much I could do.
Ah, but never fear! We have an action plan!
I also found out that that night Mateo almost threw up on my head while I was sleeping on the floor next to his crib I should have taken him to the ER.
I swear, when women decide to get pregnant, they really need to read over the rules. One of them is that the mom guilt is nonstop, a constant and never ending. My mom guilt seems to revolve around my child's heath, which I think it is worse than anything else since I'm fully responsible in taking care of him and making sure he LIVES.
Ah, but it's all good. Cause we have an ACTION PLAN!
Speaking on being responsible, the daycare ladies didn't let Mateo or any other child out yesterday due to the excessive heat. I did, however, get quite the earful of excuses and reasons about the day before. Something about crying or not crying was the determining factor that it wasn't the heat on the day he did go out side and turn bright red from overheating.
But then I found out he wasn't given his two sippy cups of milk during the day, and was only given the first of the two right when I came to pick him up (real smart, daycare ladies). So one whole sippy cup of milk was lost because Mateo had his doc appointment to go to and since it was almost 100 degrees yesterday, and the milk had to sit in the car....yeah, you can figure what happened.
Today when I drop off Mateo, I'm going to stress again that he can't go outside and they need to actually give him his milk. But now I fear they won't feed him or change his diaper or just completely ignore him because I won't be writing down that they should be doing these things.
Ah, the life of working parents.
Ah, but never fear! We have an action plan!
I also found out that that night Mateo almost threw up on my head while I was sleeping on the floor next to his crib I should have taken him to the ER.
I swear, when women decide to get pregnant, they really need to read over the rules. One of them is that the mom guilt is nonstop, a constant and never ending. My mom guilt seems to revolve around my child's heath, which I think it is worse than anything else since I'm fully responsible in taking care of him and making sure he LIVES.
Ah, but it's all good. Cause we have an ACTION PLAN!
Speaking on being responsible, the daycare ladies didn't let Mateo or any other child out yesterday due to the excessive heat. I did, however, get quite the earful of excuses and reasons about the day before. Something about crying or not crying was the determining factor that it wasn't the heat on the day he did go out side and turn bright red from overheating.
But then I found out he wasn't given his two sippy cups of milk during the day, and was only given the first of the two right when I came to pick him up (real smart, daycare ladies). So one whole sippy cup of milk was lost because Mateo had his doc appointment to go to and since it was almost 100 degrees yesterday, and the milk had to sit in the car....yeah, you can figure what happened.
Today when I drop off Mateo, I'm going to stress again that he can't go outside and they need to actually give him his milk. But now I fear they won't feed him or change his diaper or just completely ignore him because I won't be writing down that they should be doing these things.
Ah, the life of working parents.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
When your kid's face is bright red, that means he's overheated.
Mateo has been slightly sick since this weekend; mostly he has an annoying phlegmy cough, but he did have a slight fever Monday night. By yesterday he was fine, just still had the cough, which won't go away for a couple of weeks.
My husband dropped him off at daycare, and he, being the bigger worry wort of the two of us, called around 2pm to see how Mateo was doing. He was told by one of the daycare ladies that he wasn't doing too well and that he didn't want to eat. At the moment he was sleeping, and had been sleeping for two hours. There was mention of him not acting the same either. Especially outside. My husband was worried and felt Mateo was taking a "turn for the worse." I decided I should probably leave a bit early to go get him, just in case something was wrong with him.
I walked into the daycare room, and Mateo was being sat down at the little toddler table, with a bottle thrust into his hands. From the door I could see Mateo's face was bright red. From past experience, we realized that Mateo doesn't do so well outside in the heat. Yesterday went as high at the 90's or maybe a little more. Today may go to the 100's. The first thing I thought was: He's overheated and that's the only thing that's wrong with him.
The lady who was in charge of him that day told me her spiel about how he wasn't eating, and this and that and on and on, and I listened, all the while thinking, he's too hot, HE'S TOO FREAKING HOT!!!! Then she said, "...and it's not the heat." Like she read my mind.
Hello? It's not? We're in a heatwave! Who let's their small children, who can only communicate on a basic level of grunts, nos, thats and points, outside to run around and overheat? My kid overheats by just laying on his side for too long when sleeping!
I like to give the ladies at daycare the benefit of the doubt, so I just left and packed Mateo into our car, turned the AC up full blast and got him home. When we went inside our condo, I took his shoes and socks off, and then his shirt. Then I turned the AC on. After about 10 minutes of being cooled off, the color of Mateo's face turned his normal shade of swarthiness, and he devoured a banana I fed him. I waited a bit after the banana, then started getting his dinner together. He pretty much pigged out like he hadn't eaten for days.
There was nothing wrong with my child except TOO MUCH HEAT!
Today I wrote on his paper that he can't go outside today or tomorrow, and then told the morning lady the same thing. She agreed that it's not good for the little ones to go outside, and said she'd make sure everyone knew. She also said the older ladies "don't think" when it comes to stuff like that.
My goodness. Heads will roll if my kid goes outside today. And I'll know. Bright red face = Mateo went outside. And they'll get theirs. Oh yes.
My husband dropped him off at daycare, and he, being the bigger worry wort of the two of us, called around 2pm to see how Mateo was doing. He was told by one of the daycare ladies that he wasn't doing too well and that he didn't want to eat. At the moment he was sleeping, and had been sleeping for two hours. There was mention of him not acting the same either. Especially outside. My husband was worried and felt Mateo was taking a "turn for the worse." I decided I should probably leave a bit early to go get him, just in case something was wrong with him.
I walked into the daycare room, and Mateo was being sat down at the little toddler table, with a bottle thrust into his hands. From the door I could see Mateo's face was bright red. From past experience, we realized that Mateo doesn't do so well outside in the heat. Yesterday went as high at the 90's or maybe a little more. Today may go to the 100's. The first thing I thought was: He's overheated and that's the only thing that's wrong with him.
The lady who was in charge of him that day told me her spiel about how he wasn't eating, and this and that and on and on, and I listened, all the while thinking, he's too hot, HE'S TOO FREAKING HOT!!!! Then she said, "...and it's not the heat." Like she read my mind.
Hello? It's not? We're in a heatwave! Who let's their small children, who can only communicate on a basic level of grunts, nos, thats and points, outside to run around and overheat? My kid overheats by just laying on his side for too long when sleeping!
I like to give the ladies at daycare the benefit of the doubt, so I just left and packed Mateo into our car, turned the AC up full blast and got him home. When we went inside our condo, I took his shoes and socks off, and then his shirt. Then I turned the AC on. After about 10 minutes of being cooled off, the color of Mateo's face turned his normal shade of swarthiness, and he devoured a banana I fed him. I waited a bit after the banana, then started getting his dinner together. He pretty much pigged out like he hadn't eaten for days.
There was nothing wrong with my child except TOO MUCH HEAT!
Today I wrote on his paper that he can't go outside today or tomorrow, and then told the morning lady the same thing. She agreed that it's not good for the little ones to go outside, and said she'd make sure everyone knew. She also said the older ladies "don't think" when it comes to stuff like that.
My goodness. Heads will roll if my kid goes outside today. And I'll know. Bright red face = Mateo went outside. And they'll get theirs. Oh yes.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Vacation cancelled.
After Mateo got sick again, and after the whole exploding eye incident from last week, my husband and I decided it would be better for us not to take our measly three days off in June and to save those days for more sicknesses and weird incidents that lay ahead of us.
While this is sad, it's just plain smart to do.
I did make one of them "wow, she's so smart" statements when we were trying to figure out if taking those days off was going to bite us in the butt later on: The beach isn't going anywhere.
Actually, I think I really used "ain't" and not "isn't," but that's beside the point.
And hey, we just saved ourselves a lot of money!
While this is sad, it's just plain smart to do.
I did make one of them "wow, she's so smart" statements when we were trying to figure out if taking those days off was going to bite us in the butt later on: The beach isn't going anywhere.
Actually, I think I really used "ain't" and not "isn't," but that's beside the point.
And hey, we just saved ourselves a lot of money!
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Mom's Day disappointment.
One thing I forgot to mention in my earlier post - Mateo's daycare didn't have the kids make Mom's Day cards. I was hoping that they would have. My husband picked up Mateo on Friday, so I wouldn't have known if they made cards or not until today.
I didn't get anything hand made.
My husband, however, did get a hand made card - last year. I've been hoping all year that I'd get something this Mom's Day since Mateo didn't start going to daycare until after last year's Mom's Day.
I swear I remember when I signed the contract, it said in return for the extremely high amount we pay each week for daycare, I would get a Mom's Day card.
Talk about serious disappointment.
I didn't get anything hand made.
My husband, however, did get a hand made card - last year. I've been hoping all year that I'd get something this Mom's Day since Mateo didn't start going to daycare until after last year's Mom's Day.
I swear I remember when I signed the contract, it said in return for the extremely high amount we pay each week for daycare, I would get a Mom's Day card.
Talk about serious disappointment.
Mom's day...so far.
Happy Mom's Day to all the Moms I know. Hope your day was good.
My Mom's Day....so far:
Mateo coughed all night with many wake-ups. Since I pass out way earlier than my husband, and he got up more than I did (I think...I'm too sleep deprived to remember at this point), when Mateo woke up at 5am, I got up instead of him because he didn't get enough sleep. Plus, if anyone's taking a nap today, that would be me and not him.
Basically this means I didn't get to sleep in with Missy Sophia, be presented with my steaming cup of coffee and Mom's Day cards and possible gift(s). I also didn't get to go to the Zoo, like I wanted, because I love animals and Mateo's never been to the Zoo, and what better thing to do on Mom's Day?
Instead, I got up at 5am, as mentioned above, fought falling asleep on the couch while Mateo milled around the living room, causing havoc as he went (which is probably the reason why I didn't just pass out), cleaned three poopy diapers, received many hugs, watched the last half of Split Ends and then all of Peter Perfect, which is actually a good show although a bit of a rip off of the Food Network's Restaurant Makeover but featuring people makeovers as well.
By the time Peter Perfect came on, my husband rolled out of bed. He very casually grabbed Mateo, grabbed his work back and announced offhandedly that he had to get his "medicine." Uh huh. Momma didn't raise no dummy.
Low and behold, a few minutes later, here comes Mateo holding two cards, and attempting to eat one. He finally walked over to me, and after a tugging match, I got both cards from him. Dad's card to me was very nice. Mateo's card to me was just as nice, signed by Mateo with help from Dad, and included a gift card to Macy's.
The Macy's gift card is for my Dr. Marten shoes because there is no way my husband could have bought me the shoes without my feet being there too. And, of course, Macy's is having a buy one pair of shoes, get another pair half off, so I'm dying to go and look at their shoe selection. I'm going to wait til I'm at work so I can go to a bigger Macy's with a bigger selection. Watch out world.
After eating a tasty bagel breakfast sandwich and drinking a Starbucks drink, we all headed into Mateo's room for some goofiness. Then my husband told me to go take a nap. So I did.
When I woke up, I cleaned one of our bathrooms.
Amazingly, it's only 1ish and I have way more of this day to go. Who knows what is ahead of me?
My Mom's Day....so far:
Mateo coughed all night with many wake-ups. Since I pass out way earlier than my husband, and he got up more than I did (I think...I'm too sleep deprived to remember at this point), when Mateo woke up at 5am, I got up instead of him because he didn't get enough sleep. Plus, if anyone's taking a nap today, that would be me and not him.
Basically this means I didn't get to sleep in with Missy Sophia, be presented with my steaming cup of coffee and Mom's Day cards and possible gift(s). I also didn't get to go to the Zoo, like I wanted, because I love animals and Mateo's never been to the Zoo, and what better thing to do on Mom's Day?
Instead, I got up at 5am, as mentioned above, fought falling asleep on the couch while Mateo milled around the living room, causing havoc as he went (which is probably the reason why I didn't just pass out), cleaned three poopy diapers, received many hugs, watched the last half of Split Ends and then all of Peter Perfect, which is actually a good show although a bit of a rip off of the Food Network's Restaurant Makeover but featuring people makeovers as well.
By the time Peter Perfect came on, my husband rolled out of bed. He very casually grabbed Mateo, grabbed his work back and announced offhandedly that he had to get his "medicine." Uh huh. Momma didn't raise no dummy.
Low and behold, a few minutes later, here comes Mateo holding two cards, and attempting to eat one. He finally walked over to me, and after a tugging match, I got both cards from him. Dad's card to me was very nice. Mateo's card to me was just as nice, signed by Mateo with help from Dad, and included a gift card to Macy's.
The Macy's gift card is for my Dr. Marten shoes because there is no way my husband could have bought me the shoes without my feet being there too. And, of course, Macy's is having a buy one pair of shoes, get another pair half off, so I'm dying to go and look at their shoe selection. I'm going to wait til I'm at work so I can go to a bigger Macy's with a bigger selection. Watch out world.
After eating a tasty bagel breakfast sandwich and drinking a Starbucks drink, we all headed into Mateo's room for some goofiness. Then my husband told me to go take a nap. So I did.
When I woke up, I cleaned one of our bathrooms.
Amazingly, it's only 1ish and I have way more of this day to go. Who knows what is ahead of me?
Saturday, May 10, 2008
My kid crushes.
Mateo and I visited my mom for Mom's day. I gave her her much anticipated Mom's day card (I had to redeem myself after the "no cards given at birthday time" fiasco of 2008). For some reason, ever since I bought the card, I thought it was some goofy card about finding a childhood lunchbox on eBay. When I signed the card, I realized I decided (when I must have been asleep at the Hallmark store), to buy the card about searching for "sweet mommas" on the internet and finding porn sites.
So I told my mom about how all this time I thought I had bought the lunchbox one. Then I said I had a Beegees lunchbox.
"You did?" she said. She didn't remember.
And yes, yes I did. I was in love with Barry Gibb, if you must know. I said Andy Gibb during our conversation, but I was incorrect; apparently I don't remember my Gibbs by name.
As a child, I had this weird obsession with men who had facial hair. Not only did I love the lug of a lion maned Barry Gibb, but I was also in love with John Oats, the hirsute of the two men from Hall and Oats. (I must mention that while Barry Gibb doesn't look too horrible now, John Oats got hit by the really big "did not age well" stick.
You might be thinking, did your dad, by chance, have facial hair? Oh yes. He certainly did and still does. And I'm fairly certain that's where my childhood obsession of men's facial hair began.
At some point, though, my obsession of liking men with facial hair turned into NOT liking men with facial hair (except for my dad) or chest hair or back hair or any weird tuffs of hair.
My husband, I must mention, has weird tuffs of hair. On his inner wrist. I call it his gorilla tuffs. They make no sense, and while he does want to wax his chest hair and back hair (the small amount he has), he is very possessive over his wrist tuffs. And he gets mad when I suggest we shave them off.
So I told my mom about how all this time I thought I had bought the lunchbox one. Then I said I had a Beegees lunchbox.
"You did?" she said. She didn't remember.
And yes, yes I did. I was in love with Barry Gibb, if you must know. I said Andy Gibb during our conversation, but I was incorrect; apparently I don't remember my Gibbs by name.
As a child, I had this weird obsession with men who had facial hair. Not only did I love the lug of a lion maned Barry Gibb, but I was also in love with John Oats, the hirsute of the two men from Hall and Oats. (I must mention that while Barry Gibb doesn't look too horrible now, John Oats got hit by the really big "did not age well" stick.
You might be thinking, did your dad, by chance, have facial hair? Oh yes. He certainly did and still does. And I'm fairly certain that's where my childhood obsession of men's facial hair began.
At some point, though, my obsession of liking men with facial hair turned into NOT liking men with facial hair (except for my dad) or chest hair or back hair or any weird tuffs of hair.
My husband, I must mention, has weird tuffs of hair. On his inner wrist. I call it his gorilla tuffs. They make no sense, and while he does want to wax his chest hair and back hair (the small amount he has), he is very possessive over his wrist tuffs. And he gets mad when I suggest we shave them off.
Say it like it is, did I say?
One thing about taking public transportation almost every day is is you begin to realize how we, as human, just don't care about each other. I admit, I do this most times myself because I just really don't want to be bothered and I tend to attract sucker on-ers who won't leave me alone and all I want to be is left alone. But there are two things I will always do, one sparked more from my pregnancy than out of kindness (and, as we all know, I'm not kind, at least my friends don't think so - thanks, friends!), and one out of just being considerate and polite.
The first thing I will do is give up my seat for an older person, handicapped person or pregnant person. I will not bum rush the train for a seat if I know there are others trying to get on that probably should be sitting down more than me, and I definitely will not try to get to a recently vacated seat on a cattle car train because that fight just isn't worth it.
Interestingly enough, on Friday, I gave up my seat for an older gentleman with a cane. And, even more interesting, I got to sit back down almost immediately, without fighting any men for the empty seat.
So there I was, reading away. The bench next to me was perpendicular to my bench. A man sat in the window seat, the aisle seat was occupied by a young lady with a suitcase blocking the aisle (another pet peeve -- if you plan on taking a train, sit somewhere where you're not blocking everything!), two bags on her lap, and she was reading a book.
At some point, the man next to the window needed to get off the train. So what does this girl do? She leans ever so slightly into the aisle, not attempting to make much room for him to get out into the aisle. In order to do so, he had the almost push his groin into my face. This, I did not appreciate, but I knew it was her fault and not his.
I rolled my eyes and huffed but let it go.
Never once did she looked up from her book, but she did make some noise indicating displeasure of having to move.
There was an older man standing, and he decided to sit down in the vacated window seat. I thought, okay, after what happened last time, this girl will at least attempt to get up and get out of the way, and who cares about your f-ing bags and your stupid book, just get up, you lazy jerk of a person.
What does she do? She leans ever so slightly into the aisle.
I was pissed. You just don't do these sorts of things to people! Especially older people who could possible fall on top of me! I will always get up and get out of the way, no matter how many bags I'm totting. It's just common courtesy. I would give her more leeway if she was old or crippled or pregnant, but she was visibly none of these things.
"You can stand up and not be so rude," I said and probably really loudly since I was listening to my music and I tend to talk loudly regardless.
She started spouting off stuff at me, but, as I've said, I couldn't hear anyone's voice because of my music. And I realized that this was really the best way to go when you want to tell someone what an inconsiderate idiot they are. I ignored her, she eventually went back to reading, and when the man wanted to get off the train, she did her same thing, leaned ever so slightly into the aisle.
As the people behind her wanted to move forward, she would move her suitcase blocking the aisle ever so slightly as well.
Obviously the world revolved around her. Obviously I didn't realize this. And even more obvious, she hasn't met my 15-month old who KNOWS the world revolves around him.
The first thing I will do is give up my seat for an older person, handicapped person or pregnant person. I will not bum rush the train for a seat if I know there are others trying to get on that probably should be sitting down more than me, and I definitely will not try to get to a recently vacated seat on a cattle car train because that fight just isn't worth it.
Interestingly enough, on Friday, I gave up my seat for an older gentleman with a cane. And, even more interesting, I got to sit back down almost immediately, without fighting any men for the empty seat.
So there I was, reading away. The bench next to me was perpendicular to my bench. A man sat in the window seat, the aisle seat was occupied by a young lady with a suitcase blocking the aisle (another pet peeve -- if you plan on taking a train, sit somewhere where you're not blocking everything!), two bags on her lap, and she was reading a book.
At some point, the man next to the window needed to get off the train. So what does this girl do? She leans ever so slightly into the aisle, not attempting to make much room for him to get out into the aisle. In order to do so, he had the almost push his groin into my face. This, I did not appreciate, but I knew it was her fault and not his.
I rolled my eyes and huffed but let it go.
Never once did she looked up from her book, but she did make some noise indicating displeasure of having to move.
There was an older man standing, and he decided to sit down in the vacated window seat. I thought, okay, after what happened last time, this girl will at least attempt to get up and get out of the way, and who cares about your f-ing bags and your stupid book, just get up, you lazy jerk of a person.
What does she do? She leans ever so slightly into the aisle.
I was pissed. You just don't do these sorts of things to people! Especially older people who could possible fall on top of me! I will always get up and get out of the way, no matter how many bags I'm totting. It's just common courtesy. I would give her more leeway if she was old or crippled or pregnant, but she was visibly none of these things.
"You can stand up and not be so rude," I said and probably really loudly since I was listening to my music and I tend to talk loudly regardless.
She started spouting off stuff at me, but, as I've said, I couldn't hear anyone's voice because of my music. And I realized that this was really the best way to go when you want to tell someone what an inconsiderate idiot they are. I ignored her, she eventually went back to reading, and when the man wanted to get off the train, she did her same thing, leaned ever so slightly into the aisle.
As the people behind her wanted to move forward, she would move her suitcase blocking the aisle ever so slightly as well.
Obviously the world revolved around her. Obviously I didn't realize this. And even more obvious, she hasn't met my 15-month old who KNOWS the world revolves around him.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Social Profile, Compare People, or How to make someone really angry.
I'm an avid Facebooker. I like it. I like updating my books and music and playing Scrabulous with my husband all day long. I'm no longer addicted to Staries, but I do enjoy that as well. Facebook is really neat when the people you know are active users. When they aren't (and I have a few), it gets boring. But I've stuck with it. Every single day.
And then there is the Compare People application from the lovely folks at Social Profile. This application allows users to rate their friends against other friends in categories such as, 'hottest' and 'smartest' and 'who would you want to be stuck on a desert island with.' So I played along, hoping that none of my friends would realize how I voted. Cumulative is okay, but if my husband found out I didn't vote him smartest? Boy howdy, a divorce would be in the works. (I joke...).
Then one day I got an e-mail from Compare People telling me what MY strengths and weaknesses were. Yeah...that wasn't part of the deal.
My rankings are on my page, but I never go and look. So to have an e-mail tell me how my friends feel about me? Man. That's cold. And I don't even know who is doing it because, like I mentioned, most of the people I know don't even go on Facebook anymore. However, my rankings keep changing, and I know this because of all the friggin' e-mails I get telling me so.
Right now, these are my rankings (cause I know you're dying to know):
I am most punctual and most prettiest.
Okay, I am punctual to a fault most times. And since most people aren't punctual these days, I'm often chided for being early to appointments. You know, like I'm trying to pull some sneaky business on people and get in early. I'm fully aware I'm early and have brought supplies to entertain me, so don't you fret.
Prettiest? Jeez. Okay. I say cute, but not prettiest. I'm not going to complain, though, because of this:
My weaknesses are:
Most popular and kindest.
What does that mean, exactly? It's a weakness to BE most popular? And kind? Or that my friends think I'm not popular nor kind? Granted, I don't think I'm popular, although when I suck you into my nuttiness, you'll always come back. I do take serious offense to not being kind. Sure I'm crass and a tad mean and I sometimes just say it as it is and don't think twice about it, but I am kind. I'm kind to those that deserve to be kind.
Maybe that's why I'm not popular.
And then there is the Compare People application from the lovely folks at Social Profile. This application allows users to rate their friends against other friends in categories such as, 'hottest' and 'smartest' and 'who would you want to be stuck on a desert island with.' So I played along, hoping that none of my friends would realize how I voted. Cumulative is okay, but if my husband found out I didn't vote him smartest? Boy howdy, a divorce would be in the works. (I joke...).
Then one day I got an e-mail from Compare People telling me what MY strengths and weaknesses were. Yeah...that wasn't part of the deal.
My rankings are on my page, but I never go and look. So to have an e-mail tell me how my friends feel about me? Man. That's cold. And I don't even know who is doing it because, like I mentioned, most of the people I know don't even go on Facebook anymore. However, my rankings keep changing, and I know this because of all the friggin' e-mails I get telling me so.
Right now, these are my rankings (cause I know you're dying to know):
I am most punctual and most prettiest.
Okay, I am punctual to a fault most times. And since most people aren't punctual these days, I'm often chided for being early to appointments. You know, like I'm trying to pull some sneaky business on people and get in early. I'm fully aware I'm early and have brought supplies to entertain me, so don't you fret.
Prettiest? Jeez. Okay. I say cute, but not prettiest. I'm not going to complain, though, because of this:
My weaknesses are:
Most popular and kindest.
What does that mean, exactly? It's a weakness to BE most popular? And kind? Or that my friends think I'm not popular nor kind? Granted, I don't think I'm popular, although when I suck you into my nuttiness, you'll always come back. I do take serious offense to not being kind. Sure I'm crass and a tad mean and I sometimes just say it as it is and don't think twice about it, but I am kind. I'm kind to those that deserve to be kind.
Maybe that's why I'm not popular.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Two things I find very exciting.
1. Nine Inch Nail's new CD The Slip is free! Trent Reznor has jumped on the very wealthy band wagon (wealthy as in, he doesn't need the money, and he's so rich he can do this sort of thing) and decided to give his music away. Thanks, Trent, you're the best.
(Nostalgia kicks in....)
Oh, I remember way back in 1989 when the first NIN tape came out, and I was getting a mere $10 a week in allowance (no, no, not complaining - free money is just that - free money). I desperately wanted that tape. Sadly, tapes at the Tower Records in my city went for $9.99 plus tax. So it was the tax that was ruining my dream. I. Wanted. That. Tape!!!!
I don't know what I did. I don't remember. I could have just waited patiently another week for my allowance and then convinced my mom to drive me to the Tower Records so I could purchase the tape, or, I convinced her to give me my allowance for the next week that week, so I would have the $1 or so to cover the tax. I think the later probably happened because I can be really annoying at times. And yes, even if she did front me the money, she was still the one that took me there to buy it.
And the weird thing is, my husband and I don't even own the first NIN CD now. And the tape is long gone. And it's not because I don't want it, per se, it's more because I thought we did have it all this time, and when I asked my husband if we did, he said no, and when I asked why, he said because he didn't like it.
2. Dr. Martens is re-introducing the "original" Dr. Martens. Now, let me explain. Some years back, Dr. Martens was sold and every shoe that was created after the sale was basically a piece of crap. The leather used was horrible, sometimes greasy, and the iconic boot just wasn't the same and, I felt, never would be.
Today I was looking at Macy's online, and low and behold, Dr. Martens is now selling the "original" 1460 8-eye boot. For many, many years, I lived in my Dr. Martens. I loved them. LOVED them. I saved up money and would go to Villians on Haight in SF and get my shoes. I would wear them all the time, with pants or skirts, it didn't matter.
I sent my husband the link, and he asked me if I wanted them for Mom's day. I said no. But really, I wanted to say YES. YES I DO. I have a job where it doesn't matter much what I wear, and I wear boots during winter that sorta, kinda look like my old faithfuls, so why not spend 100 bucks to get the "real" thing?
How about, if I can't have those, how about these cute mary janes?
So I casually dropped the gift bomb that yes, I would really like the boots. My husband didn't say anything. Let's hope he finds my blog and reads it.
(Nostalgia kicks in....)
Oh, I remember way back in 1989 when the first NIN tape came out, and I was getting a mere $10 a week in allowance (no, no, not complaining - free money is just that - free money). I desperately wanted that tape. Sadly, tapes at the Tower Records in my city went for $9.99 plus tax. So it was the tax that was ruining my dream. I. Wanted. That. Tape!!!!
I don't know what I did. I don't remember. I could have just waited patiently another week for my allowance and then convinced my mom to drive me to the Tower Records so I could purchase the tape, or, I convinced her to give me my allowance for the next week that week, so I would have the $1 or so to cover the tax. I think the later probably happened because I can be really annoying at times. And yes, even if she did front me the money, she was still the one that took me there to buy it.
And the weird thing is, my husband and I don't even own the first NIN CD now. And the tape is long gone. And it's not because I don't want it, per se, it's more because I thought we did have it all this time, and when I asked my husband if we did, he said no, and when I asked why, he said because he didn't like it.
2. Dr. Martens is re-introducing the "original" Dr. Martens. Now, let me explain. Some years back, Dr. Martens was sold and every shoe that was created after the sale was basically a piece of crap. The leather used was horrible, sometimes greasy, and the iconic boot just wasn't the same and, I felt, never would be.
Today I was looking at Macy's online, and low and behold, Dr. Martens is now selling the "original" 1460 8-eye boot. For many, many years, I lived in my Dr. Martens. I loved them. LOVED them. I saved up money and would go to Villians on Haight in SF and get my shoes. I would wear them all the time, with pants or skirts, it didn't matter.
I sent my husband the link, and he asked me if I wanted them for Mom's day. I said no. But really, I wanted to say YES. YES I DO. I have a job where it doesn't matter much what I wear, and I wear boots during winter that sorta, kinda look like my old faithfuls, so why not spend 100 bucks to get the "real" thing?
How about, if I can't have those, how about these cute mary janes?
So I casually dropped the gift bomb that yes, I would really like the boots. My husband didn't say anything. Let's hope he finds my blog and reads it.
Updates on my life doings.
My husband, I suspect, read my blog because today he mentioned going to Big Basin for Mom's Day. I demurely declined. I now want to go to the Zoo!
Mateo's eye is getting better. The doctor said he might have scratched his eye, but not enough to see under all his fancy hoodoo voodoo equipment, and that the swelling is due to him rubbing his eye over and over and over. He has to have antibiotic eye drops in his eye for the next 48 hours to help his eye not get an infection. The drops are definitely working.
Let me tell you, it's darn fun going to a store with your child who looks like someone punched him or he was born with a defect, and to have someone ask about him. Not, "what happened to his face?" which is probably what the man was thinking, but, "how old is he?"
We chatted, I never said anything about his eye, he never said anything about his eye, I felt even more like a loser because I still think it's my fault, although there really is no way of knowing for sure.
The doctor, however, told me not to give him peanut butter again. I vowed to wait til he's three.
How's your week going?
Mateo's eye is getting better. The doctor said he might have scratched his eye, but not enough to see under all his fancy hoodoo voodoo equipment, and that the swelling is due to him rubbing his eye over and over and over. He has to have antibiotic eye drops in his eye for the next 48 hours to help his eye not get an infection. The drops are definitely working.
Let me tell you, it's darn fun going to a store with your child who looks like someone punched him or he was born with a defect, and to have someone ask about him. Not, "what happened to his face?" which is probably what the man was thinking, but, "how old is he?"
We chatted, I never said anything about his eye, he never said anything about his eye, I felt even more like a loser because I still think it's my fault, although there really is no way of knowing for sure.
The doctor, however, told me not to give him peanut butter again. I vowed to wait til he's three.
How's your week going?
Monday, May 05, 2008
Mom of the year, I tell you.
First I step on Sophia's tail and cause some freaky lump thing to form, a lump I didn't notice for almost a week because she isn't the friendliest cat around these neck of the woods. Upon conferring with my animal advice person (mom), I decided not to drag her back to the vet to become even more nuts.
Interestingly enough, I haven't done a thing to Zoe.
And Mateo?
Today I decided to give him peanut butter. I read on a few web sites that it's okay to do so as long as there aren't nut allergies running in the family. I asked my sister if she gave her boys peanut butter at Mateo's age. She said yes. No nut allergies in the family. Okay then.
Mateo actually ate really well tonight, mostly due to me feeding him from my fork instead of him using his fingers. I think we're ready to buy him his own spoon and maybe a plate or two. He really got a kick out of me putting the food into his mouth. We had such a little dinner time moment together.
Then for dessert I decided to give him a graham cracker piece with a thin spread of peanut butter. He knows what a graham cracker is by sight, so when he touched it and it stuck to him, he was distraught. We took the graham cracker away, and I took him to the bathroom to wash off his hands.
Afterwards he immediately started to rub his left eye. Over and over and over. I'm not sure if he did this before I washed his hands or not, but after the hand washing, that's all he wanted to do. My husband kept saying he was super tired (eye rubbing is one of his signs he's tired and ready for a snooze).
Then we noticed his eye was getting swollen. And red. And closing up. I flushed it out as best I could and put a cold washcloth on his eye socket. My husband was holding his hands so he wouldn't rub his eye anymore. Mateo was not happy.
My husband asked, "What do you think it is????"
I whispered, "I'm afraid to say what it is...."
"What?"
"The peanut butter. He must have rubbed it in his eye. He might be allergic."
Now his eye looked like someone socked him really hard.
I called Kaiser. I managed not to lose it while on the phone.
Long story short, since it was just his eye and wasn't his face or neck or torso reacting, and since he was breathing fine (between cries and wails), the nurse and ER doctor decided he was okay to stay home and we didn't need to bring him in. The nurse said to keep the compresses on his eye and to give him pedialyte or water to flush out anything in his system.
Eventually Mateo passed out from exhaustion. He didn't even care that I was putting the cold compresses on his eye socket. So far, the swelling has gone down a lot, but it's not perfect. We keep checking on him to make sure it's not getting worse.
So yes, I get the mom of the year award. I am one fabulous loser of a mom.
Interestingly enough, I haven't done a thing to Zoe.
And Mateo?
Today I decided to give him peanut butter. I read on a few web sites that it's okay to do so as long as there aren't nut allergies running in the family. I asked my sister if she gave her boys peanut butter at Mateo's age. She said yes. No nut allergies in the family. Okay then.
Mateo actually ate really well tonight, mostly due to me feeding him from my fork instead of him using his fingers. I think we're ready to buy him his own spoon and maybe a plate or two. He really got a kick out of me putting the food into his mouth. We had such a little dinner time moment together.
Then for dessert I decided to give him a graham cracker piece with a thin spread of peanut butter. He knows what a graham cracker is by sight, so when he touched it and it stuck to him, he was distraught. We took the graham cracker away, and I took him to the bathroom to wash off his hands.
Afterwards he immediately started to rub his left eye. Over and over and over. I'm not sure if he did this before I washed his hands or not, but after the hand washing, that's all he wanted to do. My husband kept saying he was super tired (eye rubbing is one of his signs he's tired and ready for a snooze).
Then we noticed his eye was getting swollen. And red. And closing up. I flushed it out as best I could and put a cold washcloth on his eye socket. My husband was holding his hands so he wouldn't rub his eye anymore. Mateo was not happy.
My husband asked, "What do you think it is????"
I whispered, "I'm afraid to say what it is...."
"What?"
"The peanut butter. He must have rubbed it in his eye. He might be allergic."
Now his eye looked like someone socked him really hard.
I called Kaiser. I managed not to lose it while on the phone.
Long story short, since it was just his eye and wasn't his face or neck or torso reacting, and since he was breathing fine (between cries and wails), the nurse and ER doctor decided he was okay to stay home and we didn't need to bring him in. The nurse said to keep the compresses on his eye and to give him pedialyte or water to flush out anything in his system.
Eventually Mateo passed out from exhaustion. He didn't even care that I was putting the cold compresses on his eye socket. So far, the swelling has gone down a lot, but it's not perfect. We keep checking on him to make sure it's not getting worse.
So yes, I get the mom of the year award. I am one fabulous loser of a mom.
My Mom's Day Wish
I'm prefacing this post with a very loudly stated: I LOVE MY HUSBAND DEARLY. With that said, now I can complain...just a little.
My husband has this knack of never listening to me when I tell him exactly what I want for, oh let's say, Christmas or my Birthday or our Anniversary or Valentine's day and now...Mother's Day. He does a great, grand job of picking out gifts for me that I do love (like my lovely touch iPod, or iTouch iPod or whatever it's called, that I got for Christmas), but when presented with a short or long list of things I do want, like really really want, I never get them. Oh, I'll get them eventually, which is my own doing, but still.
And yes, I know, gifts are from the heart and the person who is giving the gift should be the one deciding on said gift, but come on. Would it hurt him to buy me that $10 book I listed? Every year I put a book on my Christmas wish list, and every year I don't get it, and every year I then go and buy it for myself, along with all the other books I want. But I feel so much less guilty about buying another book to add to my bazillion book collection if he bought it.
Okay, so back to Mom's day. Last year all I wanted was to sleep. This was mostly because I was staying home with Mateo every day and didn't get much sleep because he was still relatively young and had to be fed during the night. I was also breastfeeding, so I was basically the only one who could feed him. I rarely got more than an hour nap because Mateo was on a two hour feeding schedule and it takes me a good hour to wind down and finally fall asleep, no matter how tired I am.
And I did get to sleep. Not as much as I wanted, but that's because I guilted myself into not staying away from my husband and Mateo. Plus I think I wanted to be with them. And sometimes that need is more powerful than taking naps.
This year I asked my husband what I was getting for Mom's day. He said he didn't know, then followed up with "we'll just leave you alone." I said I didn't really want to be left alone.
Later on I told him I knew what I wanted to do. I said I wanted to go to Big Basin. He said, "I don't think Mateo can last that long in the car."
So now I'm hoping he said that in response to me because he has something really fabulous planned. And not just sleeping in and take-out breakfast and being "left alone." I haven't asked him or mentioned anything else I would like to do, so we'll see.
What are your wishes, my dear moms out there?
My husband has this knack of never listening to me when I tell him exactly what I want for, oh let's say, Christmas or my Birthday or our Anniversary or Valentine's day and now...Mother's Day. He does a great, grand job of picking out gifts for me that I do love (like my lovely touch iPod, or iTouch iPod or whatever it's called, that I got for Christmas), but when presented with a short or long list of things I do want, like really really want, I never get them. Oh, I'll get them eventually, which is my own doing, but still.
And yes, I know, gifts are from the heart and the person who is giving the gift should be the one deciding on said gift, but come on. Would it hurt him to buy me that $10 book I listed? Every year I put a book on my Christmas wish list, and every year I don't get it, and every year I then go and buy it for myself, along with all the other books I want. But I feel so much less guilty about buying another book to add to my bazillion book collection if he bought it.
Okay, so back to Mom's day. Last year all I wanted was to sleep. This was mostly because I was staying home with Mateo every day and didn't get much sleep because he was still relatively young and had to be fed during the night. I was also breastfeeding, so I was basically the only one who could feed him. I rarely got more than an hour nap because Mateo was on a two hour feeding schedule and it takes me a good hour to wind down and finally fall asleep, no matter how tired I am.
And I did get to sleep. Not as much as I wanted, but that's because I guilted myself into not staying away from my husband and Mateo. Plus I think I wanted to be with them. And sometimes that need is more powerful than taking naps.
This year I asked my husband what I was getting for Mom's day. He said he didn't know, then followed up with "we'll just leave you alone." I said I didn't really want to be left alone.
Later on I told him I knew what I wanted to do. I said I wanted to go to Big Basin. He said, "I don't think Mateo can last that long in the car."
So now I'm hoping he said that in response to me because he has something really fabulous planned. And not just sleeping in and take-out breakfast and being "left alone." I haven't asked him or mentioned anything else I would like to do, so we'll see.
What are your wishes, my dear moms out there?
Saturday, May 03, 2008
The power of the crack.
Mateo has never really had a lot of sugar. He's had baby cookies and graham crackers and yogurt and cereal bars, but very little cake-like items. Okay, let's just call it what it is: Baby crack.
Today we went to a birthday party, and Mateo had his first real taste of cake. He didn't care for his birthday cupcake too much and he's pretty much missed any other opportunity to have cake or icing since that point. I don't think I have to say that Mateo likes cake and icing - a lot.
We left right after the cake because Mateo was already going downhill from too much excitement and not enough sleep. He crashed HARD in the car, passed out, and we both thought he'd sleep at least two hours.
Today we went to a birthday party, and Mateo had his first real taste of cake. He didn't care for his birthday cupcake too much and he's pretty much missed any other opportunity to have cake or icing since that point. I don't think I have to say that Mateo likes cake and icing - a lot.
We left right after the cake because Mateo was already going downhill from too much excitement and not enough sleep. He crashed HARD in the car, passed out, and we both thought he'd sleep at least two hours.
He managed maybe 3o minutes.
Ever since then, he has been the most hyper he's ever been, running around, acting goofy, swinging his arms wildly, and most importantly, NOT SLEEPING. We've deemed him the crack baby. At this rate, I think he'll be up til midnight.
Ever since then, he has been the most hyper he's ever been, running around, acting goofy, swinging his arms wildly, and most importantly, NOT SLEEPING. We've deemed him the crack baby. At this rate, I think he'll be up til midnight.
Friday, May 02, 2008
Another day off.
Today a day off
with husband and Mateo.
A rare day indeed.
We are off to work
to show off our little wean.
Then some fun outside.
I wish we could have
more days like these. So I will
love the time I have.
Three fulls days of dad,
child, two cats and me - relax,
have fun and savor.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
9 Reasons why I love my local Hallmark.
I went to the Hallmark store today to buy some cards. I'm trying to make sure I break no hearts this coming mom and dad days, and that I actually give my husband an anniversary card since I sorta, kinda forgot Valentine's Day this year. While there, I realized I just loath love the Hallmark store.
Here are my reasons, in no particular order:
Here are my reasons, in no particular order:
- Old people! Omg! How the old people flock to the Hallmark store. Don't they tend to go out earlier in the day? Because those times I've gone grocery shopping around 9 or 10 am on a weekday, there are nothing but old people slowly walking the aisles, getting in the way of shopping carts and asking me to read things for them.
- Geeky teenage boys who for some reason decide to apply to work at a Hallmark store even though they know nothing about cards and trinkets and "collectibles" (term is used very loosely). They are quiet, shy, awkward and don't make eye contact. I suspect his mom got him the job.
- Gold Crown stickers. Why do the cashiers have to ask each person buying cards if they want some? Just give the stupid stickers away. This ties into the old people reason - the cashier asks, "do you want a gold crown sticker?" The old persons says, "What???????????????" The cashier repeats the question and adds, "you put it on the back of the envelope - to seal it." "What?????????????????" This can go on one more time or a few more times, or until the cashier gives up and just gives them the gosh darn sticker.
- Weird old woman who I swear must be a witch because she walked in with half her long, ratty hair tied up to the side of her head with the other part of her hair drooping in foam rollers. The cash register area was a bit clogged up, so she walked 50 mph up behind one of the many old people milling around and said "EXCUSE ME!" and then kept on her way when the old lady moved. When she came back, a patchwork teddy bear caught her eye, she picked it up, probably put a curse on it, put it back and left the store, foam rollers bouncing as she went. Witch or art teacher. You pick.
- Woman with massive purse who had her mind set on looking at the Mother's Day cards right behind me. I moved up a bit to give her room, but instead of reciprocating this nicety, she whacked me in the back, not once, but twice with her stupid gigantic bag. When I turned around to give her the evil eye (I had already been waiting to pay for about 5 minutes and figured I had another 5 minutes of waiting, so my good humor was slowly fading), she didn't acknowledge my existence. I did not exist! I was invisible. However, I was ready to throw some heated words with her, and who was going to stop me? The geeky cashier or the old people?
- The Hallmark collectibles that the old people come in to buy. For some reason, the really "high end" collectibles are taken out of their box and displayed. So if an old person wants to buy it, they have to bring it up to the counter and then wait for the geeky cashier to go upstairs, find the collectible's box, bring it down and repack it. This. makes. no. sense. Just buy two of the stupid things for stock and one for display. Don't sell the display one!!
- Picky collectible buying old lady who is freaked out that there is no bubble wrap around her collectible, which then causes geeky cashier to go BACK upstairs to cut off a chunk of bubble wrap and then come back DOWNSTAIRS to wrap up said collectible. When he put some extra collectible trinket thing in the box, she freaked out because the little thing didn't have a box. And she was taking all the lovely collectibles ON THE PLANE, for gosh darn sake, so make sure those puppies don't break! Like there aren't a bazillion Hallmark stores in every state.
- Old lady who has to find the change to give to the cashier so that she could get even change back. So another 2 minutes of every one's time is lost while the old lady searches and searches for her change, which she can't really see as it is. And then, when the cashier gives her 40 cents back (even!), she drops a dime. So I picked it up and try to hand it to her, but she has no clue that I'm even there, and the cashier is trying to grab the dime from me, like I'm going to drop the dime and grab her other 30 cents she got back and run into the night.
- Cashier who tells me she's stressed out, and when I say it'll get better, she tells me she was off a long time ago, but there is a long line (old people...), so she's stayed, but she's got to get all the way across town by some certain time, and blah blah blah. My transaction was finished really fast -- "do you want Gold Crown stickers?" "No." "Can I see your ID?" Flipped out and displayed lickety split-like." "Sign here." Signed. So when we were finished, I told her, "Hey, at least I was FAST." Ha, ha, guffaws, etc..
And these are the many reasons why I will try Target first when I need cards.
How we communicate.
I made an extraordinary amount of carnitas the other night, so we've had tacos for two nights, and my husband wanted to make machaca with the leftovers for "something different."
Now, I know, you're wondering, what is machaca? Well. Let me show you.
So we agreed on making quesadillas.
Today my husband IMed me and asked if I was still buying stuff for the quesadillas (we need more cheese), and if so, he was thinking we should have burritos with enchilada sauce on top of it instead. I told him yes, I was planning on buying cheese. And in response to his comment about burritos, I wrote:
ME: do we have everything you'd want for burrito insides?
HIM: hmm
HIM: i guess not
HIM: quesadillas r fine
Okay. This is what I don't understand. When I asked if we had everything he'd want for the burrito insides, I really meant, and probably should have been more clear, "what else do you want me to buy so that your burrito is the way you want it? Please give me a list of ingredients and I will happily go purchase them after I pick up Mateo." But to me the meaning was clear.
This is what I guess he read, "I'm so not going to buy anything more than just cheese because I don't want to satisfy your burrito craving, you jerk of a husband, you!!!! And while you're at it, don't even come home tonight!"
So I had to tell him that my question wasn't a loaded question and that it was not a hard question, and I just wanted to know what else he wanted. So he told me. And sadly, this is generally how we communicate with each other.
Now, I know, you're wondering, what is machaca? Well. Let me show you.
And if that visual doesn't do it for you, it's basically and traditionally beef cooked with eggs. So he wanted to take the pork and cook it with eggs. I said heck no, I'm so not eating pork with eggs, to which he responded, "but it's just like having bacon and eggs!"
I don't agree with that statement.So we agreed on making quesadillas.
Today my husband IMed me and asked if I was still buying stuff for the quesadillas (we need more cheese), and if so, he was thinking we should have burritos with enchilada sauce on top of it instead. I told him yes, I was planning on buying cheese. And in response to his comment about burritos, I wrote:
ME: do we have everything you'd want for burrito insides?
HIM: hmm
HIM: i guess not
HIM: quesadillas r fine
Okay. This is what I don't understand. When I asked if we had everything he'd want for the burrito insides, I really meant, and probably should have been more clear, "what else do you want me to buy so that your burrito is the way you want it? Please give me a list of ingredients and I will happily go purchase them after I pick up Mateo." But to me the meaning was clear.
This is what I guess he read, "I'm so not going to buy anything more than just cheese because I don't want to satisfy your burrito craving, you jerk of a husband, you!!!! And while you're at it, don't even come home tonight!"
So I had to tell him that my question wasn't a loaded question and that it was not a hard question, and I just wanted to know what else he wanted. So he told me. And sadly, this is generally how we communicate with each other.
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